For Kitty's Sake
by cazh
Summary: Amnesia doesn't only happen to the big Marshal. This story explores what happened when Miss Kitty looses all her memories of Matt, Doc, Dodge City.
1. Chapter 1

For Kitty's Sake Part 1 For Kitty's Sake Part 1

"Hang on in thar!"

Nug Short's words raced past the window, a mere whisper below the turbulent wind that blasted the outside wall of the stagecoach. Kitty Russell didn't have the where-with-all to holler back but then she didn't need to be told to hang on, either. Nor did she need to be told to keep the canvas flaps tied securely over the windows. She didn't need to be warned about the invasive dust and grit that stung the flesh of her exposed hands and face. But least of all, she needed no one telling her about the ponderous air that swirled through every crack and crevice in the coach while suppressing her breathing as if a heavy weight lay on her chest.

She heard the sharp snap of the whip and instantly felt the lurching forward as the horses responded with a burst of power. Whatever was roiling out there, Nug Short was bound and determined to outrun it and the jostling of a lone passenger wasn't going to stop him.

Kitty put a hand on opposite sides of the coach. A futile attempt, she muttered to herself, but it might just keep her from pitching off the narrow, thinly padded bench cushion to the gritty space below reserved for passenger's feet. Mumble as she night about her present situation, she carried no regrets about why she made the trip in the first place.

Mary Louise Latham had been a beautiful bride. In Alamosa. Colorado. A three-day journey from Dodge City. By stage. And three days back again.

This bit of inconvenience was well worth the price of seeing Mary wedded. Even more important because Kitty had voiced her opinion of this man and it was not a positive one. But she was willing to eat those negative words of advice given to that sweet young girl who once worked for Kitty in Dodge. That sugar-talking scoundrel convinced Mary to come farther west under the pretext of marriage. And Mary had gone with him. But Alan Bassop turned out to be a pretty good businessman once he got his own drinking and gambling establishment.

Mary and Alan.

Mary followed her own heart and patiently supported the man she loved, in spite of Kitty's words of warning.

As the storm raged beyond her small and confining box on wheels, Kitty could only hope her own patience would pay off in the same happy way.

While Kitty stolidly planned for this trip, Matt used every excuse to remain in Dodge City: too little room for his long legs inside a coach for three days—each way; too long to be away from his marshal duties; Festus and Newly were too green to handle whatever situation might arise. On and on. After a time, she ceased to listen to Matt's persistent drone of excuses. She knew she'd be going alone.

After eighteen years, Matt didn't really need to give such a concoction of justification. She knew the man and had the full understanding of the situation. He simply had a serious aversion to weddings and a great unwillingness to give up control of a trip to a stagecoach driver.

So, here she was, all alone and on the return leg of her trip. Just thinking about the solidly built lawman made her crave their private reunion. His company was fine; she loved his witty but dry sense of humor. But what she really wanted was his touch. Alone. And far away from the prying eyes of the Dodge City denizens. Matt Dillon was the only one that could satisfy the burning need that grew hotter the closer she got to Dodge. This trip couldn't be over fast enough to suit her.

A blast of wind tipped the coach at a severe angle and she lost her handholds. Whatever blew outside her window wanted furiously to get inside. A low, powerful sound grew closer. A moaning like a million lost souls coming toward her.

The hairs on the nape of her neck stood straight up just before the stage lifted off the ground and started to spin. Kitty screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

For Kitty's Sake Part 2 For Kitty's Sake Part 2

Adam Frazer urged the twenty-five year old piebald mare he affectionately called Faith Elizabeth over the storm ravaged two track. Until two hours ago the hundred mile round trip had been uneventful. But then the storm that passed just north of him came along. It was a doozy. He wasn't in its direct path but he still felt the power in those straight-line winds. They gave him good cause to worry. They threatened to blow his precious load of supplies back to Menden Falls or, maybe all the way to St. Louis. Rain and hail pelted both him and Faith Elizabeth before he managed to get cover underneath the wagon bed. His flesh still felt the sting of those balls of ice.

He and Faith Elizabeth weren't the only ones to suffer. Before this storm, the brown grass lifted spring green spires in defiance of the coming heat and drought of summer. Those supple blades now littered the gravely soil, cut off from their roots. Doomed.

Adam didn't envy anything, not man nor beast, who had to weather the full brunt of that onslaught. It looked, as it came across the rolling prairie, like the maw of Hell, open mouthed and twisting and chewing any living thing in its path.

His trail kept to the higher ground to avoid the zigzagging cuts that slashed the normally dry ground except after a furious rain. Those crevices were filled with fast moving water, churning soil, and whatever else had the misfortune of being caught up in it.

"What in the.."

A rusty brown something stumbled in starts and stops in the distance.

"Fresh meat, old girl." Adam stopped the horse and reached for his rifle. He stood up, shaded his eyes from the late afternoon sun and really looked at that moving something. "Oh my God, Faith, it's a woman."

He called out.

She didn't hear him.

She needed to hear him.

"I'm sorry, old girl, but you're gonna have to get a move on." He slapped the mare's rump with the leather reins and she settled into a steady forward motion.

That woman was headed for the deepest arroyo. By now it was a maelstrom because others fed into it. If she fell into it she'd be swept all the way to the Purgatory and from there….Adam didn't want to think about it because he knew there wouldn't be anything left of her.

He shouted again, jumped from the rig and ran full speed through the slippery mat of shredded green.

Ten steps behind.

Muddied and snarled hair, she perched on the lip. One more step and she'd be lost to oblivion.

Her foot hovering in mid-air over that swelling abyss, she paused as if she heard something. In that moment of hesitation Adam caught the material of her skirt. Heard it rip.

Prayed.

That it would hold just long enough.


	3. Chapter 3

For Kitty's Sake Part 3 For Kitty's Sake Part 3

Doc parked himself on the worn wooden seat of the bench that provided a nice spot in the shade for people waiting for the stagecoaches that came to the depot. The color was long gone but the evidence of hundreds of passengers had left round depressions in the wood. The bench was also a good place to watch Matt Dillon. The young man chose to stand on the boardwalk not five feet from Doc's comfortable resting spot. Matt could be a very entertaining man even when he wasn't trying to be.

Like now.

Matt put all his weight on his right foot, and then switched to the left. He tucked his thumbs inside the gun belt then put his fisted hands in his pockets. The Stetson got moved down on his broad forehead as if shading his eyes from the sun, then pushed back to expose totally that massive brow.

Doc felt a guiltless joy in watching Matt's numerous repetitions of these physical actions, each punctuated with a heavy grunt of impatience.

"She'll be here," Doc said for the ump-teenth time in the thirty-minute period they'd been waiting. What he was really thinking was that two weeks was a long time for Matt to be without his Kitty.

Ten minutes later the stage rounded that nasty corner on the west end of Front Street and came toward them. Matt stood with stiff legged attention and a smile of relief. Doc edged his way to stand next to Matt and cocked his pork pie back on his head.

The coach hadn't even come to a complete stop before Matt put his hand on the latch. His welcoming smile fell to waste on a well-dressed man and his raven-haired lady friend. The pair stepped out and Matt stuck his head inside the confined space of the coach.

No Kitty.

"There's supposed to be another passenger. A woman," Matt said, accosting the skinny driver as the man unbuckled the leather straps of the boot.

"Only these two at Eagle Flats." The dust-covered driver didn't greet Matt with either a handshake or a glance; he just continued to work. "Where was she comin' from?"

"Run started in Alamosa."

"Colorado?"

Matt nodded.

Doc inched his way closer to Matt until he stood shoulder to elbow with the big lawman.

The ruddy-faced young driver finally looked up from his work. He was uncomfortable, couldn't meet either Matt's or Doc's eyes.

"You ain't gonna like what I got to tell you, Marshal."

"Get on with it." Matt stiffened his tone.

"They found that stage, the horses, the driver. Twister done it." The driver kicked the dust off one of his boots with the toe of the other. "Some what saw that storm said it was like the Devil his self turned loose, swallowing anything in its way. Tore that stage apart until only the iron undercarriage was left. And that a twisted mess." The man spit into the dust of Front Street. "Horses were still tangled in the harness. So was the driver. Nug Short. Nice old man." He shook his head. "Bad."

"When did this happen?"

Doc watched the physical change. Matt went from a simple man waiting for his lady to Matt Dillon, U.S. Marshal. His back straightened, legs spread apart. But the biggest change was his face; it became a serious business-like mask that showed no emotion. And his voice resounded his profession and his authority.

"Two days ago."

The timing was right and Doc felt the bile rising in his throat.

"Like I said, had a terrible storm. Rain. Hail. Gully's runnin' wild. Sorry about your lady friend."

_Your lady friend._

_Matt's lady friend._

_My lady friend._

"Anybody look for her?"

"Marshal, we're lucky we found the stage. You know yourself there ain't nothing in that part of Colorado."

"Doc," Matt said with out even a miniscule waver to his voice, "go get Newly and Festus. I need to talk to them before I leave."

"Matt."

Dillon put his foot into the stirrup and swung easily to the back of the buckskin gelding.

"Matt," Doc grabbed hold of the reins and hung on tight.

Matt had that glazed look in his eyes, the one he reserved for those times of crises that concerned his close, personal friends. Or his lover. The jaw set firm, there was only one thing on his mind and not hell, not high water, and not even an old country doctor was going to stop him from doing what he had to do.

"Maybe she's back in Alamosa." Doc knew that couldn't be true, but he said it anyway. Kitty would send a wire.

Doc hated those flat, rigid lips. It was like Matt didn't want to say anything.

Or couldn't.

"Do you have any idea where to look?" Doc didn't care who heard the pleading in his old voice as long as the man on the back of the horse did.

Matt lost his straight-backed determined posture and slumped like an old man. "I gotta find her, Doc."

"I know, Matt. But," Doc couldn't say the words that crept through his mind like a ground fog in a graveyard; didn't have the heart to warn Matt that things might not turn out the way he wanted.

Instead, with quiet encouragement, he let loose of the reins and said, "Take care of yourself, son. And bring her back."


	4. Chapter 4

For Kitty's Sake Part 4 For Kitty's Sake Part 4

Not a wisp of air floated across the prairie to ease the relentless midday heat. Matt Dillon swayed in the saddle and ignored the blurring of his vision. He'd lost track of time and that scintillating haze that shimmered in the distance could be nothing more then the super heated grasslands; it could certainly not be fatigue. The mighty marshal from Dodge City didn't have time to be exhausted. He simply would not allow it.

Kitty was here someplace.

Hurt.

Hungry.

At the mercy of this same fiery sun.

Tender skin, fragile and soft. Burned to a dark bronze red. Blistered. Oozing.

Delicate flesh. Torn by brush. Rocks.

Festering.

Can't rest. Push. Himself. Buck.

Wishing.

Thought of her.

Not himself.

First.

Purgatory.

If he never found her, he already knew what hell was like.

It was the high-pitched shriek of the dog, not the sidestepping of Buck, that brought him out of the doldrums.

"Brewster!"

A sandy haired man aimed a rifle at Matt's chest.

Matt grabbed the saddle horn to steady himself. "Whoa, there, Mister."

The barrel sagged when the blond man saw the badge pinned to Matt's dusty rose-colored shirt.

"Brewster! Stop it." The short haired mutt pulled its black tail between two gray hind legs and skulked next to his master. "Sorry, don't get many people coming this way. Guess old Brewster and I just don't know how to act."

Matt heard one man speak but he was seeing three. And an equal number of dogs. "My horse could use some water."

"Help yourself." The slender man leaned the rifle against the dry cracked wood of a lean-to. "Name's Adam Frazer."

"Matt Dillon. Dodge City."

"Kansas?" Adam crossed his well-muscled arms over his bare chest. "Hear tell that's a mighty wild town."

Matt tried to respond but nothing, not words or even a grunt, escaped.

"Looks like you need some attention yourself, Marshal."

"Ya."

There was a watering trough shaded by trees with bright green leaves; the low moans of cattle in the distance; and the tantalizing smell of cooking beef. He had the passing sensation that this was some kind of mirage until he heard his stomach growl.

"You're welcome to sit down to supper with us. My Eve makes enough food for an army. Spend the night, too."

_Push._

_Kitty._

"Your horse could sure use the rest. He's in bad shape. Step down and I'll tend him."

Mirages didn't carry on such realistic conversations.

Matt lifted his right leg over Buck's broad back but couldn't recall his leg being quite so heavy the last time he dismounted. But then, he couldn't remember the last time he'd walked on his own two feet.

Both feet on the ground, his legs gave out and only a quick grab for the horn and the apron of the saddle saved him from collapsing to the ground.

"Sure hate to be the one you're after. Must be some really bad waddy to drive you so hard." Adam loosened the cinch and pulled the saddle off the horses' back as if it had no more weight than a feather and proceeded to fling it over the highest rail of the fence. He shook the saddle blanket a half dozen times until no more dust flew.

"I'm looking for a woman."

Adam gave him his full attention.

"Belle Starr or Cattle Kate kind of woman?" Adam grinned.

Matt leaned against the fence. "Neither. She was in a stage wreck a while back. Twister."

Adam dipped inside the desiccated lean-to and came out with a currycomb and a brush. "Last storm was about a month ago."

Three deliberate strokes later, Adam added, "You think she survived?"

Matt could only look at the ground and hope this total stranger by the name of Adam Frazer couldn't see the sudden accumulation of moisture in his eyes.

"If she did, being out here all alone…" Adam let the end of that thought dangle in the darkening light. "This is tough country. The heat don't get you everything that crawls, flies, or walks on four legs will."

Matt let out a huge exhausted breath at the horrible picture Adam created.

"You been in that saddle for a month?"

A shrug.

"This lady must be pretty special to you."

_She was._

_She is._ Matt corrected himself.

"Around back you'll find water, soap, a razor. My Eve won't let you in the door the way you look now."

Matt had a pretty good idea of how bad he looked. And smelled. Buck was just as bad, ribs and hipbones protruding from his flesh, cuts on his legs. They were quite a sight.

"I'd offer you a clean shirt but none of mine will fit those shoulders of yours."

"I might have a clean one in my saddle bag." He had no idea if he did or not. But he thought he did.

"Gona have slabs of the best beef this side of Denver. You get your mouth a watering, Mr. Marshal Matt Dillon." Adam slapped Matt on the back as they walked toward the small square house nestled under a large grove of willow trees. "Course, I don't mean to brag."

He didn't mean to brag? Matt was seeing only one man and one dog. Now. The water for washing and the razor for shaving brought him back to reality. This was no mirage.

"Our garden," Frazer pointed to his left toward perfectly straight rows of green just barely visible in the twilight. "Eve keeps it clean, waters it. Got a knack for growing things, that woman."

Matt was looking forward to meeting this super woman.

A mewling came from left of the cabin door. Kittens, confined within an open-topped box, were crawling over their mother's back to get to the milk spigots on her belly.

"The Calico Queen." Adam knelt by the box and petted the multicolored mother cat. The purr was loud enough to cut the still night air. "And her brood of six. Eve's got a name for each one of them."

The door opened and Matt could make out the thin shape of a woman wearing pants. He couldn't see her face; it was hidden in the shadows.

"Come on in, you two."

A low voice. For a woman.

Familiar.

_Kitty's._

Matt held his breath.

"Eve, this is Matt Dillon, Marshal, from Dodge City, Kansas."

"Oh, I'll bet you have some good stories to tell about that town."

Eighteen words. He'd counted each one of them. It was her. But… was he dreaming? Hallucinating? Or just wishing? Wanting her so bad that he heard her voice in this woman?

Kitty Russell showed not one flicker of recognition as she turned and allowed the warm inside light to flood across her face.

Even if he didn't know this woman called Eve and her previous life as Kitty Russell, Matt would have instantly seen that she was infatuated with Adam Frazer. And Adam with her.

Matt watched. Wanting her to touch him like she used to.

Her lovely deep blue eyes followed Adam's every move. Matt wanted those adoring eyes for himself alone.

He heard the silky teasing tone of her voice.

It was all for Adam's pleasure.

Not for his.

In the setting of the Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City, Kitty would not have touched him so freely. Ever. Would never have let her eyes linger over the more personal and private parts of his body with a definite hunger bordering on lust. Would never have savored so obviously each and every expression that crossed his face and with such intensity of emotion.

But the worst part was that she would not have used that sultry tone of voice in front of strangers or friends. Saved it, instead, for the privacy of her bedroom. When they were two, alone, and together.

Kitty Russell was plain. Now. Kohl didn't line her eye lashes, deep blue shadow didn't bring out the sapphire of her eyes, the wealth of freckles were a brazen splash of deep amber across the bridge of her nose and the fullness of her cheeks, and the dusky pink of her lips natural, rather than the bright cherry red.

This was the real woman, the Kitty devoid of the embellishments of her trade and behaving in a way that belied no restrictions, no secretiveness. No enforced discretion.

The woman she would be if it were not for himself and his occupation.

She asked about Dodge City, if it was as bad as Adam said it was. He struggled to answer.

She asked why he was so far from Dodge. He couldn't fabricate a response and, thankfully, Adam didn't volunteer the information.

But she wasn't interested in Matt Dillon. Not really.

Adam.

"You'll stay in the lean-to, Matt. It ain't much but it'll keep the cold off you."

"Breakfast is at 7 a.m. Sharp."

Kitty Russell never got out of bed before 10 a.m.

Eve touched the back of her hand to Adam's cheek and raised her left eyebrow. "Don't be long, Adam."

Matt was well acquainted with what would follow as soon as Adam got back to the house.

And then it struck him.

_Adam and Eve._

"She's the one you been looking for."

They walked on down to the wood frame shelter.

"By the way you look at her you were a lot more than friends."

Adam made two very flat, but extremely true, assertions.

Matt couldn't respond, the massive lump in his throat wouldn't allow it.


	5. Chapter 5

For Kitty's Sake Part 5 For Kitty's Sake Part 54 months later

The one a.m. train rolled across the prairie on its iron track, the westerly wind pushing it along on its way to Dodge City. Matt couldn't see it but he heard the thunderous black monster as it encroached under cover of darkness. He could see in his mind's eye, the engineer pulling the cord that breathed the haunting, ghostlike wail; could see that sound rolling along the ground, creeping closer to his town, a noisy sneak or a lonely and forsaken plea. He was never able to tell with certainty.

Matt glanced up at Doc's office. The light still burned. Either Doc had a patient or he was reading one of those medical journals that had a nasty habit of showing up two months after the publication date. Awake at all hours of the day and night, Matt couldn't ever remember catching Galen Adams with his eyes closed.

He wasn't so different from his elder friend. Not now. But in his case, he both detested and looked forward to those moments when sleep took hold. The dreams. They were nice. He captured the taste, the touch, and the smell. And he forgot.

But the cruelty came twice over when he woke up. Alone. Kitty hadn't offered him a late night drink or the fulfillment of a long and intimate night.

Doc's room was well lit; Kitty's room, the one he could navigate even in the full black of a moonless night, was dark.

_Gone._

He had a lot of steps to make. Just like all those other nights since she'd been lost to him. The purposefulness of each and every one of those footfalls, the direction in which they led, helped to put aside, even if it was for only a short time, the fact that she was in the arms of someone else.

He was amazed that jealously never entered his mind.

Nor did anger.

Or betrayal.

Only loss. And the grief that came from his own decision to allow it.


	6. Chapter 6

For Kitty's Sake For Kitty's Sake Part 6

Some things never changed. The key waited, still hidden in the crack between the railing and the third support post. Good in this case because she had no key to get inside the Long Branch; that, like her clothes and jewelry, were lost in the storm that tossed her about as if she were a fluff of dandelion seed to be spit onto the prairie. Bad, because the white washed rail was in more need of a coat of paint than when she'd left. Kitty Russell drew out the silver colored metal key and climbed the rest of the outside stairs of the Long Branch with slow, hesitant steps.

Five months earlier she'd have taken the day train, been delivered to Dodge City in the brightness of the sunlight. It would have been pleasant to enter the Long Branch by the front door.

But not now.

The darkness granted immunity from those familiar faces: Doc, Festus, Newly, and Sam. Matt. Unseen, she wasn't burdened or overwhelmed with a crowd of inquisitive people asking questions she barely had the answers to herself. The people-less candle lit streets were an odd mix of familiar and strange. She knew exactly where she was going but the way didn't tread easily.

_Adam._

She pictured him lying in their bed. Eyes open. Staring at the ceiling. Brewster resting his heavy head on Adam's chest.

Kitty/Eve possessed two lives. Up until four days ago she'd only had Adam and that small world around them. But after that bitter moment of recollection, she found herself questioning whether the former could pick up without the overwhelming memories of the last five months.

Night and day.

Her room was just as she'd left it. As if she never made that trip to Alamosa. Or lived threw a terrible twister. Or spent time living in a small two-room cabin. Or tended a garden. Or loved the Calico Queen and a smelly dog named Brewster. Or laughed. Loved.

With Adam.

_Matt._

When Adam introduced that tall and ragged looking stranger with the faded blue eyes so hungry with expectation, she felt uncomfortable because he followed her every move. Now that she had a familiar face to go with that name, Matt Dillon, she recognized it as hurt.

She understood the way Matt looked then, because she felt the same way now.


	7. Chapter 7

For Kitty's Sake For Kitty's SakePart 7

No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, Matt found himself walking past the Long Branch one more time during his nightly rounds. In the first months after she went away, he let his mind gravitate to the familiar: Kitty's understated scent of lilac, her sweet breath on his tired face, that serene look that neither criticized nor placated him after a hard day.

And when he allowed himself to get lost in those pleasant sensations, he'd find himself at the bottom of her stairs looking up, left foot raised to the first step. Then it all came crashing down around him. She wasn't up there; there was no hint of lilac, or the silent understanding.

She wasn't anywhere near Dodge City.

He missed her in the way that a man misses the woman he's become intimate with but in more ways than the physical. Though his body ached for the feel of her, he also felt devoid of her depth of perception and feminine insight that she offered so freely. She was the only person in Dodge City, save Doc Adams, who knew him for what he really was: a gentle hearted soul covered with an impenetrable shell of stone. Not a killing machine.

Tonight he was mindful of himself. No thoughtless steps were going to cause him that kind of raking devastation. But where he kept his feet in check, he could never keep his eyes from taking one last look up at that corner room. Ever hopeful. Always expectant.

Even if that meant disappointment.

A light.

His knees went weak.

A shadow of a person crossing in front of the window.

His breathing stopped.

Could…

Could she be home?

An unusual flutter lifted his heavy heart.

And if she was home, she remembered.

And if she remembered……

Matt had no recollection of crossing the street.

_Kitty's home._

He took the back stairs four at a time, oblivious to the constant pain in his leg.

_Kitty's home._

His hand shook as he put the slender key in the lock; prayed it would still work and he wouldn't drop it like a nervous schoolboy.

_Kitty._

He never thought to keep his footfalls quiet and dignified. He thundered down the hall with long purposeful strides.

_Kitty._

His right hand balled into a fist, he wanted to pulverize the door that separated them. She was all that mattered. In the whole world.

The door opened.

"Matt."

What he got was Kitty Russell wide-eyed and open mouthed in surprise.

He wanted to lunge at her, take her in his arms, drink in the soft warmth of her body against his, and kiss her long and hard.

She backed away as if reading his mind.

"I suppose I have you to thank for keeping this room ready for me."

_No._ She's talking about a room? No tenderness in her voice.

Worse, she looked uncomfortable, frightened.

He choked out the words, "Not just me. Doc. Sam."

He took another step.

Kitty Russell took another step back.

It hit him. Square. She wasn't the same woman he'd known so ardently before the separation.

"What's wrong, Kitty?" His hands reached for her, wanting to comfort her as well as savor her lush, silky hair.

"You'd better leave, Matt." A single drop of moisture marred the freckles on her cheek as it meandered downward. "I'm tired and I don't want to say something I'll regret later."

Calm, except for that shiny slender path of emotion, yet her words were delivered in such a way that they backed him against the wall with their force.

_Kitty was asking him to leave?_

_This was all wrong. It couldn't be happening. Not now._

"Tomorrow, then." Matt slipped back into the hall and watched as she closed the door.

More than a door stood between them. Now.


	8. Chapter 8

For Kitty's Sake For Kitty's SakePart 8

The rest of the night, after Matt's departure, hadn't been a good one for sleep. Kitty's mind played tricks on her confusing the Matt with the Adam until each spoke with the other's voice, begging, and she was left to cry into her pillow.

Kitty heard the soft knock on her door and knew instantly that it was not Matt.

Doc Adams couldn't keep his shock contained. It had to be the snarled hair mussed from a night of endless tossing and turning. Or perhaps it was the narrow slits that hid the brilliant blue beneath her swollen eyelids. But it could also have been the sable colored robe she'd thrown on but forgotten to tie closed that now hung haphazardly off one shoulder.

She knew she looked like hell. She had mirrors of her own. She didn't need those two startled reflections coming from Doc's pale eyes.

"I brought you some breakfast."

She hadn't seen him in five months. Hadn't thought of him until four days ago. And here he was, a tray of something, food, in his hands.

"Can I come in?"

Kitty gave a shake of her head to get the sleepless cobwebs out of her mind. "I'm sorry, sure, Doc. Come in."

"You look good, Kitty."

They both knew he was exaggerating.

"Got color. Thinner." He put the tray on the oval table and removed the red-checkered linen cover with a grand flourish. "Eat."

"I thought we lost you."

Doc's hand moved to cover Kitty's and she allowed his touch to relax her.

"Matt's been through hell, you know. He's hurtin'."

Doc spoke with his kindly voice, the one he used on ailing children and old people or on those that just needed comforting.

She pulled her hand from beneath his and reached for her coffee cup.

"He's not the only one."

She surprised the old man with her terse words.

Doc swiped his mustache and Kitty fully expected a lecture to follow. One that she knew she needed to listen to but didn't want to hear.

"You need to talk to Matt, let him tell you why he left you with Adam Frazer."

Apparently Doc knew the whole story.

Whatever that was.

"Might be surprised by what he has to say." A punctuating nod added finality to his words. "Put your mind at ease. Cause it ain't right now."

Doc pulled the checkered linen over the empty plate and cup, picked up the tray and let himself out of her room without any more words or even a look back to see her reaction.


	9. Chapter 9

For Kitty's Sake

7

For Kitty's Sake Part 9

Her hands were clumsy, more suited to the pulling of weeds, the gripping of a hoe, or the bucket full of water, as she used the time after Doc's visit to get her appearance in order.

There was no call for a painted face on the prairie. Especially if the man, Adam, was satisfied with seeing the splash of girlish sun-rich freckles abounding on her nose and cheeks. No need to keep her hands soft, disguising the hard work that gave her calloused hands.

But these many jars, lined up so neatly on her dressing table, did serve a purpose. In the life she led in Dodge City; the one she could not deny. Little by little the mottled marks disappeared beneath the tools of her trade.

The closets full of attractive clothing gave her a choice of what to wear. The fancy silks and satins with the shiny spangles were lovely, eye catching, and revealing of the charms of the wearer. These were so far removed from the durable linen shirt, the pair of pants, both Adam's, that was her complete wardrobe for the past months. The corset, the stockings, the petty coats, and the chemise graced her body now as she slipped on a blouse in a blue so pale it was almost gray and then a dark skirt. Plain. Simple. But still very elegant.

She left her hair to fall unimpeded, the natural ringlets gracing her shoulders and face.

A knock on the door brought her back to the stark reality of her situation.

"It's Matt. Can I come in?"

She expected him.

She dreaded seeing him.

She wanted to see and talk with him.

Especially after last night.

She opened the door and Matt filled it. He took up so much space.

Awkward, she stood aside and he walked in.

"I'm so glad you're back, Kitty."

Hat in his hands, he looked every bit like a very shy little boy.

She closed the door but couldn't find any voice to return his comment.

"Do you want me to leave?"

There was a touch of challenge in his words.

"No," she turned to face him, "no, I don't."

She gave her hands something to do since her mouth wasn't cooperating. She unstoppered the intricately designed brandy decanter and proceeded to pour two glasses, both brazenly filled to the top, with the clear golden brown liquid. The deep cuts of the decanter ran in straight, deep lines, crossing in an orderly fashion; so very opposite of the way her life was going. Matt took the proffered glass of spirits without a word.

"Why did you leave me with Adam?"

There, she said it.

She had to know.

Matt slammed the aged brandy in two gulps and gestured for more. "I didn't want to."

"That doesn't answer my question."

With the next glass filled to the brim, Matt downed the strong liquor in the same way he'd done his first glassful.

"Didn't take much to see that you and Adam were…were.." A breath. The next words expelled like a rifle bullet. "A couple in every way."

_A couple in every way._

"You didn't know me."

He hung his head.

"You looked at Adam like you did at me. When we were younger."

Memories were so cruel. Two men. As diametrically opposite as any two males of the human species could be. One so demonstrative, the other obsessively discreet. One a gentle person, the other a steely nerved lawman that showed no hesitation in dealing with the dregs of society, even if it meant the taking of lives.

Yet both could be so loving that each made her feel she was the most special woman in the world.

"Adam knew, Kitty."

She couldn't pull her attention from his watery blue eyes that mirrored all his emotions from tenderness to hate, anger to passion, sorrow to joy.

"When Adam took me down to bunk in the lean to after supper, he said I looked at you like a man in love with his Eve."

Matt pulled one of the high backed chairs with the excess of crimson and gold fabric covering the well padded seat and back, and fell into it as if all his energy had suddenly deserted him.

Powder blue hurt stared up at her.

"He didn't wait for an answer, denial or otherwise, just asked if I could protect you, keep you from getting hurt."

Matt ran his fingers through hair that was not as dark as it used to be.

"He asked how you got those bullet scars, that mark on your face, the others…"

Memory loss had some benefits; she didn't have to see the demonic faces of Will Mannon or Jude Bonner. Or know exactly why she bore such crude marks on her body.

"I didn't want to leave you out there. I looked for you for so long."

He stood, energy renewed.

"And when I found you, you had no idea who I was. What we were."

He paced between the chair and the big brass bed on the opposite side of the room.

When he looked at that bed, Kitty had the strange feeling that he was recalling all those times when he and she had shared that special place, shared their bodies with each other in the most personal and intimate of ways, where they proved their love to one another without words to get in the way.

"Then," he faced her, "he said something that hit so hard."

Matt stood to his full height, no trace of stooped shoulders, and gave her his full attention, complete with all the hurt, the broken promises, the deception, and the misspent energies behind it.

"He said," his words caught, "for her sake, do what's right. For Kitty's sake, do the right thing."

Kitty finally breathed.

"I had to leave you there. You were better off. Safe. Loved. So free. I couldn't give you what Adam did."

She put her hand on his face and brushed her thumb across his cheek. "I had no idea it was like that."

Kitty rested her head against Matt's broad chest and took great satisfaction in the strong and steady beating of his heart.

"What made you remember?"

She pushed away from the support of his body as she recalled the nightmare that propelled her from a satisfied and content woman by the name of Eve to this one, Kitty Russell, a woman caught between two men.

"We were.." she closed her eyes. It didn't help. She could still see the vision in her mind's eye, but at least she didn't have to see Matt's reaction. "We were making love."

A contented smile turned up the corners of her mouth. Fond memories. Exciting touches.

"And the next second.."

She let the words drift into every corner of her room.

"Oh, Kitty."

She felt his hands, gentle in spite of their size, on her arms.

"I can still see it." She felt her knees buckle and Matt clutching her to him. "I watched his heart break in two and I couldn't do a thing to stop it. He didn't deserve that, Matt."

Then the flood of tears began.

"No, Kitty, Adam didn't deserve that. It must have near killed him."

"Just like when you saw Adam and me. That's the look he had."

"Ya."

"Things moved real fast after that. He didn't even ask if I wanted to stay. Never asked if I wanted to go."

"You would have stayed?"

Matt wasn't given to unabashed surprise but her words caught him totally off guard.

"Took me all the way to Denver, bought me a set of traveling clothes and a one-way train ticket to Dodge. Then he walked out of my life. Never said a word, not that whole time."

"He couldn't. He was hurting too bad. And if he said anything he knew it would sound like begging."

_Begging me to stay._

"It'll take time, Kitty. I'm glad you're back, I've missed you so much."

"Matt," she had to look into his eyes, knowing that what she was going to say might hurt him again, "I'm not sorry for anything that happened between Adam and me."

His arms surrounded her, drew her closer, she felt him sniff her hair; knead the small of her back with the palms of his hands.

"You shouldn't be."

He put his hands on her face and lifted her head to receive the tender touch of his lips.

"But you're here now, and that's all I care about."

EPILOGUE

September ran into October, and then came the winter. Not one day passed without Kitty wondering how Adam was doing. Did he manage to go on? To forget? Did he still think about her the way she did about him?

After the initial welcoming back, the residents of Dodge City once again took the red headed owner's presence as normal. But they didn't know the whole story; that was kept between Matt, Kitty, and Doc. Business flourished. It was as if she'd never been away at all.

Matt would come into the Long Branch, their eyes would meet. Each would smile. His hand would cover her's and on rare occasions, he'd even bring that soft hand to his lips. Their shoulders touched as they shared a beer or conversation. He didn't use the back stairs anymore, marched right up those inside steps behind Kitty. No one took any notice after the first few times.


End file.
